


Old Souls

by Sirastar



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Highlander: The Series, Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Immortality, Technology, Transformers (2007) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-04
Updated: 2008-12-04
Packaged: 2018-03-24 23:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirastar/pseuds/Sirastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The oldest Immortal in the World meet the Autobots and finds a friend!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: arrianna2004
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and rights belong to the producers.  
> Note: The Idea to this Story came to me as I watched Highlander.
> 
> I thought it was a nice thing to bring the Transformers and the Immortals together.  
> Have fun.

“You still believe that I’m crazy”.  
“No, you are not crazy, but….well, I don't know….it sounds rather bizarre—gigantic robots. Come on, it sounds like you have watched a bad Sci-Fi movie, or maybe your imagination has simply played a trick on you”.  
“MacLeod, I may already be over five thousand years old, and some would call me senile at that age, but I know what I have seen. I was there”.

Methos was a little bit disappointed over the incredulity of the Highlander. He liked Duncan very much. However, sometimes the Scotsman was too realistic. Plainly in the comparison to him was MacLeod with his four hundred years. Still young, but he had one of the noblest and most brilliant spirits Methos knew.  
They had been able to entrust each other of everything. Together they had undergone many things and they survived. However for the first time, Methos believed that he had made a mistake, as he told Duncan of his experience in Mission City.

-Flashback-  
Methos was back in America. The stress in Paris--the last fights all had demanded its tribute. So he had decided to go on trips to avoid any dangers.  
Five days ago, he had arrived in a quiet area in California. Reports were over meteor landings. Each track missing had awakened his interest, but his investigations on the spot had not brought him truly further.  
It gave reports of a few teenagers from one of the impact points. They had done first video-records, but whoever really knew what these kids had seen in their youthful devilment.  
Now Methos stood on the balcony of his hotel and looked over the city. Mission City was far outside the big cities of California and, nevertheless, the city was enlivened like Los Angeles itself.  
An uncommon Convoy awakened his attention suddenly.

Some Fighter cars of the Army rolled the street up. That itself would be not uncommon for this area. Uncommon were the cars which accompanied the Convoy.  
In the middle drove a yellow 2008 Camaro. Methos knew that that model was released only in test-phases on the market until now. In front drove a big, black GMC Topick and a silvery Pontiac Solitice, also a very new model. This uncommon troop was still flanked from a bright yellow-green ambulance. While the Immortal made his thoughts for itself over this troop, a jet shot over the city and the Convoy came to a halt on a cross and let rise green smoke.  
Methos stared the jet, which he recognized as a F22, for another few moments. The pilot maneuvered between the high building unusually well, but even for the best pilots of the world it was to heave uncommon to fly so densely at the ground and between these high-rises.

“It’s Starscream,” jelled a deep voice from the street up, so Methos looked down again and faltered in his breath. Instead of the black GMC Topick, now there stood a bulky, gigantic robot. But that was not enough. Two teenagers jumped out of the yellow Camaro and it also changed--no--transformed--into another giant robot.  
People started to run away in panic, when the two robots raise a truck to establish some kind of bulwark. But the protective barrier got up too late. The jet shot down, and a few moments later, everything was wrapped in a huge, ear-killing explosion.  
Methos gripped hard down on the railing of the balcony so that he wouldn't be flunked over the balustrade. After he overcame the first shock, he ventured to look down again.  
The boy who jumped out of the Camaro now stood before the robot, which was lying on the ground, and asked him to get up. Methos could well see that the robot and his legs had been separated. The Immortal hardly had to observe the scene further, because it was shot at the group on the ground again. A gigantic desert tank rolled clattering up the street, and as the next bombshells exploded below the hotel, the walls of the building screeched dangerously.  
Methos did not consider any more. He ran back into the room to get out of here. His things where still packed, so he just had to grab his bag, his sword, and his jacket to be ready to go. He headed out of the room to reach the emergency stairs. He was down and out of the hotel in no time.

From everywhere outside, he heard shouts of panicked peoples and more heavy explosions.  
He reached the side exit of the hotel at the moment the black robot and another bright yellow robot were attacked by another gray robot, and this one was much bigger than the others.  
“It’s Megatron, retreat…move! Fall back!” the bright yellow one shouted.  
//My God, what are these things?// he thought to himself and jumped in another house entrance, just in time, to be not smashed under the falling debris of the damaged building.

Again, a violent shell fire started up on the street, and more people where screaming in panic.  
The Immortal brought his hands to his ears to protect them from the loud screams and explosions. After a short moment of recovery, he got back to the main street, only to see the gray beast that was called Megatron partially transform and shoot up heavenward with a small gray robot in his claws. The color of the smaller robot reminded Methos on the Ponitac from the Convoy.  
Only a few moments later, he threw the smaller robot on a skyscraper and landed on him. The small robot fought courageously against the monster but with no success. Methos heard distorted words, but he couldn’t understand them clearly. The robots were too high, their voices got down only in pieces. A few seconds later, the monster grabbed the smaller robot and, with another fragment of words, he ripped him in apart.  
Methos did not know why, but it hurt him to his deepest core to see that.  
The brought down tank on the street stood up again and started to fire at the other robots and the military.  
The Immortal hat no choice to run in a side street to escape the renewed battle. He ran as fast as his legs carried him and came to a hold below the skyscraper with the beast on top.  
A loud and very powerful engine sounds from another road caught his attention.  
An immense Peterbilt truck, in blue-red spraying with bright flames, was thundering through the street. When it reached the end of the street, it glided capably around the corner. Methos expected this unusual vehicle to transform, too, and that was exactly what happened.  
The truck transformed itself to a robot that was almost as big as the monster on the roof. “Megatron,” shouted a deep, fully authority sounding voice, and the monster on the roof answered.  
“Prime!”

After throwing away the remains of the smaller robot, Megatron jumped off the roof and transformed into a strange-looking jet. He headed straight down for the giant named Prime.  
The blue Robot did not step back, so he was lifted from his feet by Megatron as he lunged himself onto him. Both giants disappeared between the house gulches, but not without taking the corner of a whole building.  
Methos was still out of breath. Everything had run off before his eyes, but he could still not believe it. He stepped to the rests of the small robot which landed just a step beside him. The former shining silver had become dull and a strange blue liquid ran from the damaged body. When he looked at the head of the robot he was shocked to see that the eyes--or better--optics rested on him. But the look was tired, and Methos knew this look. It was the look of dying soul, and so largely his fear was, he could not step back.

“Don’t fear us,” said the robot and, with his the last strength he had, he pointed with his finger to a strange red symbol on his armor. The Immortal looked at the symbol and then back to eyes of the robot.  
He nodded as a sign that he had understood and, with one last smile of the robot, the light went out in his eyes.  
The Immortal stood up again and without considering long, he ran in the direction in those who had disappeared to both giants. His millennium-long experience made it possible for him to get around unseen, regardless of the fights' noises to follow. Finally, he reached the old fair building from Mission City.  
Methos faltered in his breath for one moment, the boy from the Camaro was standing on one of the figures at the roof of the building. He could barely hold on and he had a strange cube in his other arm.  
Megatron came up to him and seemed to ask him something. However, their voices did not penetrate down to the ground. A shadow at the side of the building caught his attention and when he stepped aside a little bit, he saw the robot--which had been called Prime--between the walls of the buildings, climbing upward. A loud crash pulled his look again upwards. Megatron had smashed the side of the house and the boy fell in the depth.  
Methos already wanted to turn away so that he didn’t have to look at the death of another innocent but then Prime reacted quick as a flash. He held on with his legs in the fair building and held on with the right hand in the other building. Now he was stretched between the houses and with his free hand, he caught the boy. He held him against his chest and a few seconds later he started a quick descent, unfortunately he wasn’t fast enough.  
Megatron jumped at Prime, so he fell with the boy in the depth. Both robots hit in the middle on the crossroad and Methos now was only few steps from Prime and the boy away.

“Sam, you risked your life to protect the cube,” sounded the deep voice once more.  
“No sacrifice, no victory,” the boy answered and Prime easily nodded.  
“If I cannot defeat Megatron, you must push the cube in to my chest. I will sacrifice myself to destroy it. Get behind me,” added Prime. His voice had a deep passionate sound that even sent creeps down the spine of the old Immortal.  
Prime set the boy carefully down and he got behind the robot. Afterwards, he directed his attention once more to Megatron. The Immortal had also decided to clear up the field; however, this decision came a few seconds too late. Megatron had grabbed Prime and whirled him around. When he let him go, Prime hit hard against the building Methos just ran along. Broken pieces of the house smashed down on the Immortal. He felt his legs and a part of his internal organs crushed, so the next death was secure to him. Methos knew it would need some time until he will recover from it. A painful sigh aside him caught his attention, and he looked to the side only to see sadness in the eyes of the robot named Prime. He could clearly see grief and guilt in the robot's eyes because he brought death to another being. Methos tried to smile to calm the robot.  
“Fight,” with this, last quiet word, Methos' mind was wrapped up by darkness.

He regained consciousness under a sheet for dead people. How he had expected it, it had lasted some time for his body to recover from this death. He heard voices and sirens, however, no battle sounds. He tore the sheet carefully away from his face and took a look around. It was dark and he lied between other death people--victims of the clash of the titans in a silent side street.  
//I have to go.//  
It took Methos two attempts to raise himself from the ground. He was still a little bit unsteady, but he regained his senses fast. He got through the debris and pushed two other bodies more narrowly together so that his absence wouldn’t be noticed. To his luck his bag lay on a small heap of other things not far from the dead bodies. After he had put it on, he disappeared in the shadows of the night.

\- End Flashback -

 

“Methos, it is quite late, and even if you are right, did you really believe that we will find any proofs here?” Duncan’s voice fetched him back again, in here and now and yes, he had to admit that the Highlander was right.  
All tracks in the town were removed, and if you asked somebody, you always received the same answer, which was that there has recently been a terrorist attack, but nobody knew something exact or at least they do so. If they knew something, they wouldn't tell it.  
“Maybe you are right, but I will not stay here. Forgive me that I dragged you here for nothing. I will see you soon.”  
“Where will you go?” Duncan asked his friend.  
“There where my feet carry me. But don’t worry. I'll announce myself again to you.” With these words, Methos took his backpack and came along on the way to leave the town. Duncan had put no other questions to him, which he was grateful for. The Scot had learned, in the meantime, exactly when it was time to let the other immortal go.  
Methos left Mission City because of the many memories it has brought back to him. He was not tired so consequently, he hiked the whole night further.  
His way had led him out of the city, and now he walked at the side of a quiet country road through the warm summer night.  
The stars and the moon shone brightly that night, so Methos missed no detail in his surroundings. The night already inclined into its second half as one glittered offside of the street caught his attention.  
The immortal left the roadside and followed the direction where he had seen the glitter.  
Soon he reached one offside lying hill, he was certain that from there, to have a good outlook, but as he near came, he recognized something that let him beat his old heart quicker than before. A truck stood on the opposed side of the hill. Like by itself, he accelerated the steps of the immortal and consequently reached the truck very quickly.

Carefully, Methos checked if he was still alone. He was, and the truck didn't move from the spot. For somebody who came along on a coincidence, it looked as would somebody had parked his truck here to go for a night walk or something else. Methos would never forget this truck; the powerful engine sound, the colors, that Fleming on the lacquer; all that had burned itself into his memory since his experience. The same symbol, which the dying robot had showed him in Mission City, was on the grill of the truck.  
“I know what you are,” Methos said loudly then, but against his hope, the truck didn’t move.  
//Please, I cannot be wrong.// Methos sighed internally to himself..  
“You were in Mission city! You have fought against others--others like you!” Again, the truck didn’t respond, and Methos received doubts that maybe he was wrong, but he knew what he as seen so, he couldn’t be wrong.  
“Your name is Prime, and exactly you, Prime, had see me die under a pile of rocks from a house. I don't know what you are or what you pretend to be, but I am also not that what you think.” After these words Methos pulled a knife from his bag and positioned it at his left hand.  
“No,” a well-known voice called him exactly in the moment as the knife cut through his skin.  
Fascinated, the Immortal observed as the truck folded apart and already transformed in to the big robot he had seen so near in Mission City.  
Now from near and without fear, he had a clear look at the transformation. Every piece of the former truck, no matter how small or big, found a new place to go to and formed the powerful form of Prime.  
For a short moment, Prime stretched himself to his full size before he submitted to his knees to look directly at Methos. “Why have you done that?” clear apprehension was to be heard from his voice.  
“It was the only way to show you who I am. You have seen me in Mission City, and you were sad as you believed I would die. I know that you are not evil, but I would like to understand it. What are you, and what was that for a fight in Mission City?”  
Realization flared up in the eyes of the robot.  
“How is that possible? You were already half dead. My scanners have shown that your organs were squashed.”  
Methos smiled with this question, and to the sign of the trust, he answered to it.  
“Quite simple. I am more than meets the eye,” answered Methos, and to proof his words, he showed his hand to Prime. There was nothing to be seen from the gash, only the fresh blood still reminded of the injury.  
Even in his millions of years of life, Optimus had not yet seen something similar, but now it was to him to introduce himself properly. “My name is Optimus Prime. I come the planet Cybertron in search for the Allspark with some of my most trusted warriors.”  
“So! Optimus it is. In the city, I always heard you called Prime by that evil guy, Megatron, but is a pleasure to meet you. I would not have believed that there would be completely artificial life forms out there.”  
“And I would not have believed in immortal and organic beings. That’s new, even to me.” Optimus answered and now sat carefully down in the grass. He stopped and held out a hand in front of Methos. Before he could say something, Methos had already understood and jumped on the hand.  
Like at that time with Sam and Mikaela, he lifted the immortal on his shoulder so they were at the same height. Methos was surprised. He had expected that the hand of Optimus would be cold, but the metal was surprisingly warm, and now as he sat on his shoulder. He sensed the energy of life that flowed through the giant.

“So, how old are you, where is Cybertron, and what is this Allspark?” The questions had left Methos' mouth before he really could think over them.  
“The Allspark was the life source of my race. In a human calendar, I would be far over nine million years old. The rest is a long story.” Prime answered the questions and now it was now Methos' turn to look surprised by the lifetime of Optimus.  
“Earth is a very young planet,” Prime continued. “And the humans are a even younger race, so how long did you live among them?”  
“There are not many immortals, and we lives hidden under the mortals. Nevertheless, I am the oldest under all known immortals. I don’t know it exactly, but five thousand years ago, I had my first Quickening,” Methos gave the answer.  
“What’s a Quickening?”  
“That is also a long story,” Methos answered, smiling. “And I am happy you to tell my story if I can hear your story for it.”  
“It would be my pleasure”, Prime answered. His and Methos' gaze met and, somehow, they both knew that they had found something special in the other one. It was a feeling like they had found a soul mate.

Both directed their gaze to the horizon as the new day began to rise.  
After the sun had lightened the landscape all around them, they began to tell each other their stories.

End  
****************************************************  
Thanks for reading.  
Sirastar


End file.
